I have a broken mirror
in my pocket
I carry it with me
wherever I go
(the shards cut through my jeans, stab my thigh
dyeing my pants red)

I have tried to take it
out, pick
the pieces
out of there                      

                      (it's easier to just leave it.)
I end up with only ******
fingertips, I smear   my
                    blood on the rugs
I sleep on,
                               the bed is too soft, too warm
                                                         to sleep in

I'm not used to kindness
or- - - - - even
        liking someone

                         so I become
scared, that things won't
                                              work out

and when you try to pick these
shards out of my leg,




(turning your beautiful
          fingers red&raw;)

when you try helplessly

to erase my pain

                                           I will lay on this blood-  
                                                                ­   stained



rug                              and think






Why are you doing
              

                      this
  


            for me

2:08 a.m
on a major freeway: completely empty except for
me

pulling off,
i see that only
the streetlights are still awake
red yellow green, red, yellow, green
I passed prostitutes
and pimps, too many drunks
too many homeless


to count.

thought of
How many people
at this moment
           are making love
How many

are getting *****

thought of
How many
are making choices
about what to wear
to work
tomorrow
today

i know i change my mind a lot

I like your hands
;slender beautiful/ fingers
.

(it's silly, probably
to think about hands so much) (  )

And your smile, unexplained, inescapable.

but i can trust you
to understand, take things slow, with me.

I wouldn't have it any other way, I swear

and i will never compare you
to all the people that came before you



and i won't sing about your hair

or write poems about your lips

( even though i will) want to


i just don't want you to think


that you're like everyone else
I'm not
worried
though
.

you know that you're different
( i am pretty sure... that)
we both know
that i think about you
a lot
and i'm going to miss you(r hands)

i'm taking this slow,
like a train ride into the horizon

we can take a few years getting there,
and i'll enjoy just taking the journey
*is this okay?

tall and soft,
strong and low
exciting and down to earth
quiet and thoughtful
kind and sweet

shy
but
so very

honest

and

smells like
lying in the grass

my first boyfriend, Jimmy Brennen
whose sweatshirt always smelled of cheetos
and Axe

or the man who sat on the waterrushed rocks
and kissed me,
tongue tasting of
lake water


or when i held a girl's (Debbie's)
breast
cupped in my hand for the first time,
pressed closely together in secret
how wonderfully soft and warm


but
this person

doesn't even have to

touch me

and i smile from

ear to ear
just looking at

his

hands
.

I'm done



with love.

with you
and
you

and you



and especially
you.


I don't need ***
i don't want
skin

i tear it all
away



and start over



but

please know

that i'm sorry
that i hurt you


but from the start,
i told you

that the boys fall in love with me

and i never love them back.

Now that we've decided to
Start Over

I want you to know
that i don't want
anything
to be how it was last time



please, please please

just let me breathe you in
and don't say anything
when i pull away from your kisses

don't make fun of the tears
that you (will) make fall from my cheeks

boy boy boy.
just teach me piano
and hold my hands
(yes, both of them)
please don't

hurt me
this
time


just boy
boy, good boy

try to hear me
I'm trying to explain

if I leave again
i won't expect you to chase after me

but boy,
silly boy
do it anyway.

just look in my eyes,
good boy good boy

you'll know
that the love i've got in my heart for you

never
left

there isnt a **** thing i can tell you
that i haven't said over and over

honey, go ahead.
ask me the same questions
why did it fail
where did it stop working
when did i stop loving you



but at this point, it's just masochistic